Big Brother
by This Is Melodrama
Summary: Life for you begins at eighteen.


**Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.  
**

* * *

Life for you begins at eighteen. You're fresh out of high school, headed into college with a scholarship, a pretty gal by your side, two supportive parents, and two kid brothers who look up to you. You were the head boy in school, the quarterback, the star student.

You're Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr.

You go to college for a year and a half. Your grades are good, your eyes are bright, the same girl is still by your side. Both of your parents are so proud of you, and your kid brothers are still idolizing you. You couldn't be more happier with yourself or your life as you are then.

Hell for you begins at twenty. You're in your second year of college, on Winter break, when it happens. Your parents are gone, dead in a car-wreck, leaving you and your kid brothers alone to deal with the aftermath. You're numb.

You take each day carefully. You drop out of college, get a full time job roofing houses, and for good measure, you take back the job you had in high school; you're lucky the same guy is still your boss, he liked you well enough.

You're scared, but you won't tell this to anybody. You're the oldest, and it's your job to hold your family together, to make sure nothing tears you apart.

You are granted custody of both Soda and Ponyboy. You're still _just_ twenty, and you have absolutely no idea how to raise two teenagers, or maintain a household. You weren't ready for this, any of it, but then again, who would be?

You don't cry at the funeral. You simply _can't_. If your brothers see you crying, they'll know everything, and you simply can't let that happen. You're Superman, the rock, the foundation holding everyone and everything together.

Nobody knows that you cry during the nights when you're by yourself.

You miss your mother's cooking, you miss those intimate conversations with your father. Funny, you were always told that you and your father could pass as brothers, but you have the replicated mindset of your mother.

Glory, how you _miss_ them. You miss them _so much_ that it physically hurts, but you've got to remain strong, you _have_ to be.

Ponyboy is having nightmares. Soda dropped out of school.

You're somewhere in between. Every day is on repeat it seems, but you've grown accustomed to it. It doesn't matter, though . . . You're still terrified. You've counted every possible bad thing that could happen which would take your brothers from you.

You swear you won't ever let that happen, not over your dead body.

You're twenty and a half, and your worse fear comes true. Ponyboy is missing, involved in a murder investigation, and you have no one to blame but yourself. Who can you turn to now?

You can't stop staring at the reddened part of your skin where your hand made contact with his face.

When the cops show up at your door the first time to inform you about the incident, you nearly collapse on the spot. Your heart is pounding, your head is swimming, and your vision is clouded. You thank the Lord above that Soda is standing beside you with one hand placed on your shoulder.

Soda's girlfriend leaves him, pregnant with another man's child, or so you've heard. You spend the nights comforting him and worrying about your youngest brother somewhere out there beyond your reach and protection.

You don't say anything, but you're practically shaking beneath the surface.

It's five days later when Ponyboy is back home, but he isn't well. The very next night, two of your friends are dead, and you blame yourself. If you hadn't hit your kid brother, sending him fleeing into the night, none of the events leading up would have occurred.

It takes quite some time, but everything seems to cool off. Nothing is the same, and it _never_ will be, but as the days drift on, you begin to find some normalcy in life again.

It's your twenty-first birthday. You look a few years older than you are, but you feel even older than that. You're still scared deep inside, but you take the days one at a time. You have two kid brothers, one who is on the brink of becoming an adult, and the other who is still so young and yet so wise.

You are _so proud_ of them.

You're Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr.

Big brother, Superman, or Muscles.

You're everybody's rock, but your brothers and friends are _your_ foundation and support. With them, you are Darry.


End file.
